


I wear my fucking insides on my outside

by scepticallyopenminded



Series: 30 Day Lyrics Challenge - 2017 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Background Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Darker Stiles, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Protective Stiles, The hell else should i tag this i'm realizing i'm terrible at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepticallyopenminded/pseuds/scepticallyopenminded
Summary: Stiles? Stiles just didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t see the good in these creatures; they came on their land, their territory, fucked up the humans they protected, tried to fuck up them. He had not one ounce of sympathy for the demise they had come unto. He’d been through too much, too, the scars that crisscrossed his body showing that much, at least.





	I wear my fucking insides on my outside

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off Pray (Put 'Em in the Dirt) by Hollywood Undead:
> 
> "I wear my fucking insides/On my outside"

Stiles ducked, hearing the arrow from Allison’s bow sail just above his head, barely clearing his hair. Perfectly fucking in sync, they were. He jumped next, one of the demons swiping furiously at his legs from where Derek had just knocked it down to the ground. _Fuck_ , but demons were the absolute worst. They rarely travelled in packs, but of fucking course that’s what fucking happened in Beacon Hills.

He jumped to the left, swiping one of them with the silver knife he had – dipped in salt, blessed by a priest two cities over, specifically for use with demons. The demon let out a shriek, but the cut hadn’t been deep enough, and next thing he knew Stiles was on the ground, furious demon on him. Quickly, he tossed the blade to his other hand and pushed into the demon’s side and – oh, yeah. Another shriek that rivalled even Lydia on her worst day before the body the demon had been occupying slumped over, mouth opening wide as a bright light was emitted from all orifices. Fucking dead.

Stiles pushed himself back up quickly as another one came for him, Scott right by his side to grab it, digging his claws deep and holding the demon still while Stiles stabbed into his chest, pushing the blade as deep as he could. Another scream, another bright light, and by the time Stiles looked around again the woods were littered with bodies, the pack standing around, everyone’s breath laboured as they all assessed the situation.

After making sure that everyone was accounted for and unhurt (at least, not fatally hurt; Isaac had pulled a hamstring, and he limped as it started to heal, and Lydia had a shallow gash on her left upper arm they’d probably have to bandage up when they got back to the house), it was time to take care of the bodies; a job that they exempted Kira from, her empathy too much to deal with all the death and destruction they too often left in their wake. It wasn’t only her; the majority of the pack had trouble when it came to body disposal. Only Stiles, Allison, and Boyd remained completely unmoved these days.

Boyd always had been and always remained the most stoic of any of them, able to express emotion especially when it came to his little sister or to Erica, even to Derek time to time, but also easily able to repress emotions when the situation called for it. Allison had simply been through too much, and learned to compartmentalize her emotions; from learning her family’s secrets, to her mother dying, her brief switch to the dark side, her sacrificial near death at eighteen.

Stiles? Stiles just didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t see the good in these creatures; they came on _their_ land, _their_ territory, fucked up the humans _they_ protected, tried to fuck up _them_. He had not one ounce of sympathy for the demise they had come unto. He’d been through too much, too, the scars that crisscrossed his body showing that much, at least.

A lot had changed in Stiles’ life since Scott got bit. For one, he realized that mythological creatures that he’d thought were just that – myths – were actually reality; then he’d come into his own as a partially magical individual in his own right. He’d already started hardening long before the nogitsune, between his dad almost dying, his best friend almost dying, _watching_ plenty of people die. But when the spirit had possessed him, made his body do things while his mind was forced to sit back and watch, _that’s_ when it really started. The aftermath of that had been what really pushed him over, not even able to always trust his own head. He’d always thought of himself as intelligent, more than able to fend for himself, and this thing came and grabbed hold of him and proved that he couldn’t. He was _vulnerable_.

So he shoved himself into his workouts, made himself physically stronger, and did everything he could to strengthen his mind, too. He settled himself. Did things that forced him to be in complete control, and then did things that forced him to be completely at the mercy of other people or other things. And stopped caring, even if he hadn’t so much before, either. These creatures that came after his family and his pack didn’t care, so he shouldn’t either. They deserved everything the pack gave them.

While the rest of the pack always had particular expressions on their faces when they dumped the corpses in the giant bonfire that was out near the Nemeton – Scott’s one of clear uncertainty that they were doing the right thing, Lydia’s one of carefully constructed blankness that still allowed her eyes to show all she was feeling, Isaac’s open sorrow – he knew what his own face looked like. Absolute uncaring, maybe even sometimes some sort of relief. Boyd always watched with an absolute vacantness, while Allison looked angry.

Derek always looked toward him, concern evident on his own expression, and Stiles knew _why_. It was hard to deal with, though, so he always tried to ignore it.

Derek had done the absolute opposite of _him_ since they met; where he used to be uncaring, absent, only worried about himself and about survival, he’d grown immensely. He was softer now; still concerned about the survival of himself and his pack, but he recognized now that he had people who cared about him, people who loved him, and actually _accepted_ that now. He’d become a hell of an alpha, decision making natural for him and able to care for his betas in the same breath that he pushed them harder to always be their best.

And Stiles knew the look Derek gave him whenever these things happened, for the confrontation and for days after, was one of wondering where the man Derek had fallen in love with was. They’d been together seven years now, and Stiles knew that with every battle since then he’d changed, gotten harder. He still loved his pack, loved his family, and loved _Derek_ as much as he always had, but this inability to call empathy for those other supernatural creatures, regardless of they were ‘wolves themselves or jinn or hydras or changelings or whatever, affected him, and affected their relationship.

But he’d never been anything but upfront about what he felt. The very first day he realized he loved Derek he’d told him, and the day Derek had asked him about how he was after he’d, personally, killed a shtriga he’d let his boyfriend know straight up that he was fine. He was rough, hardened, scars lining his body that reflected the scars in his mind, on his heart, but he was still him. Just, a different version.

He hoped that was enough, because he knew without a doubt that they were going to be fighting for years to come and he wasn’t about to change. He also knew without a doubt that Derek was the love of his life, and he wasn’t going to find what he had with Derek with anyone else. He didn’t want to lose him.

He looked away from the fire, where the bodies the demons had inhabited slowly burned, a simple spell keeping the smell of burning flesh (what a hellish scent that was) at bay, and over to where Derek was watching him.

 _I love you_ , he mouthed, though at that moment he felt nothing but pure reprieve from all the worrying he’d been doing since the demons had shown up. He was going to do what he had to to keep Derek _his_ , and to keep the pack safe. Derek’s expression softened, a small smile gracing his lips and not for the first time Stiles recognized that Derek looked years younger when he smiled. He was thirty-two, but looked twenty-five when his face relaxed.

Derek mouthed it back before looking toward the fire. Stiles watched him for another moment.

He’d continue being clear about his feelings, and hope to god that was enough to keep them all together.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [asocialfoxpaw](http://asocialfoxpaw.tumblr.com/) sometimes


End file.
